


Epilogue: Here on the other side

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Through dooms of love [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curufin developed a terrible sense of humor after death, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Re-embodiment fic, Still not sure about this writing 'after death' fics but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maeglin is being released from the Halls of Mandos, and Curufin isn't quite sure how to talk to his son about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue: Here on the other side

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. This is rather an epilogue to this series...Maeglin doesn't appear in it, and I haven't yet determined if I'm going to write about their reunion (or indeed if a reunion happens), but it definitely falls within that universe, so here it is.

“Irissë’s son is coming home today.” 

Curufin looked down at his son, who was sitting in the corner by the bed, his back braced against the bedframe and his feet propped on the wall. For a strongly built elf, he could certainly fold himself up small when he wanted to, Curufin reflected, and briefly remembered how good Celebrimbor had been at hiding as a child.

“I heard.” Celebrimbor didn’t look up at his father.

Curufin hesitated a moment, then stiffly lowered himself to the ground at his son’s side. He could almost see Celegorm smirking at him.  _Deigning to risk dust on your fine robes, brother? This is progress indeed…_

“No one will make you see him, if you do not wish to. Indeed, I suspect you will hardly be alone in hoping to avoid him.”

“I do not know what I want.” 

“Well, you don’t need to decide any time s-”

Celebrimbor twitched his shoulders. “I should have been better prepared,” he said, twisting the ring on his index finger. It was an agitated fidget, and a distracting one, and Curufin only restrained himself with difficulty from reaching out to still his son’s restless hands. “I should have known it would not be long after…after you two came back… Kinslayers and traitors probably do similar time, don’t they?” His sarcasm sounded brittle. 

“Probably.” Curufin hesitated.  _Put your hand on his shoulder_ , Celegorm’s voice growled at the back of his head. 

“I should have spent the same amount of time in the Halls as him. As the rest of you.” Celebrimbor’s quiet voice stilled Curufin’s hand, halfway to his shoulder. 

“What?” 

“I am a traitor, just as much as he,” said Celebrimbor softly, fingers still twisting relentlessly at his ring.

“Don’t be stupid, Tyelpe.” Curufin’s voice was sharp, and he worked to modulate it. “His treachery brought down a  _city_.” 

“And mine may bring down all of Middle-earth.” 

Curufin snorted, and this time he did lay his hand to Celebrimbor’s back, pressing his palm between his son’s broad shoulders. “I didn’t raise you to be a braggart, Tyelpe.”

Celebrimbor let out a startled breath that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“No doubt those rings of yours were very fine,” Curufin went on coolly. “But come, are you so arrogant as to take full responsibility for the potential destruction of the  _world_? Rather big-headed, in my opinion. Even I would hesitate before such a claim. No, I stick simply to ‘aiding and abetting in the dooming of the Noldor’ and leave it at that. We all have our limits.” 

“ _Atar._ ” 

“Tyelperinquar,” said Curufin, “do you truly think that there are any here who know what you have endured – and who know what you did in defiance – who believe you traitor? I would say it more likely that they consider you the…” It was surprisingly hard for him to say, but he found that he meant it. “…the greatest, and perhaps only worthy one of our house, for your deeds. And your goodness.”

“The great and good receive only death as their reward,” said Celebrimbor quietly. “You told me that once.”

“Did I?” Curufin tried to think. Memories were still a chaotic whirl at times. “I suppose it sounds like something I would say. In which case, it seems you have proven it true, no?”

Celebrimbor huffed out another laugh, and tilted slightly into Curufin’s side. “You should know that I find your attempts at humor alarming.”

“I have heard that before.” Curufin allowed himself to rest an arm along Celebrimbor’s shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against his son’s bare arm. “Still, you should be harder to alarm than that.” 

Celebrimbor let his head drop onto Curufin’s shoulder, and Curufin looked down at his son’s dark head. There were gold clasps in his braids that were very familiar.  _I left those in Nargothrond, surely…_  But then he remembered that there had been a matched set of those plain gold clasps, and that Nerdanel, clearly, had held on to the other pair. The swirl of memories tossed one at his feet.  _I remember fastening gold into your hair… When I used to braid your hair for you; when you were still small and looked to me for protection and I could actually provide it; before you looked at me with distrust and dislike; before the years between us were weighed down with resentment and betrayal…_

“I don’t feel that way anymore, Atar,” whispered Celebrimbor. “I’m not angry at you.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” said Curufin brusquely, but he let his arm tighten around Celebrimbor’s shoulders before pulling free and rising to his feet. He held out his hand patiently until Celebrimbor took it and let himself be hauled to his feet. “Come to dinner now. Tyelko must have killed half the forest – only animals, don’t fret, it’s your  _other_  uncles who are three-time offenders on the kinslaying front – ”

Celebrimbor groaned. “ _Atar_. Your jokes  _aren’t funny_. They’re  _offensive._ ” 

“ – and it will take at least three of us to even make a dent in the venison he’s hauled home,” finished Curufin, ignoring his son as he rolled his eyes. “And there will be plenty of time,” he said, more quietly, “to figure out how strictly you wish to avoid your former…cousin.” 

“Anything to get me away from your politically incorrect sense of humor,” muttered Celebrimbor, but as they left the room, he brushed his hand lightly against his father’s, the slightest touch of ring finger to index. “…Thank you, Atto.” 

“For what? Go get cleaned up before you eat, Tyelpe, you’re covered in dust.” But Curufin allowed himself a small smile as he and Celebrimbor’s eyes met, briefly, before going their separate ways.


End file.
